12/30/2010

Touch the tip
of this index
finger
and stagger down to the palm
let these arms be dragged across
the walls
then let them fall
cause the strength isn’t in these wrists
I’m just not feeling it tonight
I’ve tried
damn near died
to hold you
but I just might
tonight
not want the touch
I don’t want to talk
I want to walk
until I can’t recall
what pushed me to the evening streets
and why I stare at the sky
utterly disgusted
with every body
that passes me
by
--
where’s the logic in longing
the desire to retire to bed

where are you in the evening
when I need to see your face
at the break of day

there’s never anything other than
this shallow skin I dress in
filling these sheets
with the stagnant air I breathe

shallow
fucking hollow
and ill at ease
yeah that’s me
shallow
fucking hollow
and ill at ease.